The Slithering Queen
by ESP
Summary: Little Ginny Weasley hosts a dark guest in the night... She thought she heard a noise, like a whisper of a cloak or a vague hiss of conversation, a sound in her head as if it had skipped her ears.


Ginny was pulled back from her almost-asleep state with a small breath. She thought she heard a noise, like a whisper of a cloak or a vague hiss of conversation, a sound in her head as if it had skipped her ears. Without moving, she held her breath to hear the quiet sound… might just be Ron and Harry, she thought to herself. She waited, frozen, for the sound to come again.

Nothing, and she relaxed, un-tensing her muscles. It was nothing, she reassured herself. A snore, the wind. Nothing.

I am becoming paranoid. Scared of the dark, of little sounds in the night.

I'm not eleven years old anymore.

But ever since…

But Ginny couldn't bear to follow that train of thought, couldn't bear it. She wrenched herself away from it, her breath caught in her throat, torn. It was too dark and she was too alone, and Grimmauld Place much too cold. She wouldn't let herself think of him, or the way her breath shook when he caressed a strand of her hair. It was too dark for that, too dark for her shakes and for his fingers, too cold.

But she couldn't help it, couldn't help but think of the icy slithering of his fingers on her skin, and the breeze of his breath pricking her hairs. She couldn't not. Goosebumps all over her arms.

She struggled valiantly to think of something else, _anything _else, she prayed, but her mind's eye kept returning to his feral smile and gleaming eyes. But she couldn't not. His gleaming eyes and the way he eyed her, but _that_, yes. Her scribbling pen, and her closed curtainsand his sweet, sweet words, like acid in her heart but sweet. Slithering cold all over her, but it tasted sweet on her tongue and she wanted it. His jet black hair, jet black and splayed everywhere, and pressure in her chest. Anything else, but his fingertips, and her throat, anything else but that black. His lips, his words, their lips. Her heart. Anything, but God, please.

She jerked, another whisper, this time clear and cruel. Footsteps, now, outside her room, without a doubt.

She was completely frozen, a slimy sensation writhing all along her body. I should yell for help, she thought dimly. But she didn't move. Some far off part of herself tried to argue- Riddle's gone, he can't hurt me now, I'm safe. This is just a dream, just night fear.

But that part of her was caught in her chest and there were slithering things much closer than that.

Her door creaked open, so slowly she thought the creak could just slice right through her. He fear was so sharp, so sharp it was sweet, sweet and sharp on her tongue and in her throat, and pressing so hard on her chest. The door creaked in her chest.

Some final strength cried inside, urged her to shout, to move, anything anything. But it was too late… a black figure loomed over her bed, and little whispers about his head, waving his dark black hair, and she had nothing left, nothing left.

A sweet taste in her tongue, and the boy's hair was so black.

She exhaled with a small sound, a sweet and sharp sound.

"Ginny," he said, whispering harshly, as if her breath had touched some part of him.

"Ginny," hissing her name and the fear and the want slithered up her spine, along her skin. She wanted him so badly to leave, to flit away.

She wanted so badly to feel anything except that low tingling fear, and the black touch that started low in her body, her legs clenched together, and shot up, curling around her belly and seeping into her lungs, her chest, up her throat. It tinged her lips but she couldn't lick it away, couldn't move.

Slowly, so darkly and slowly, he leaned towards her, placed a knee on the bed beside her, bending her body towards him. She couldn't look at him, couldn't see those gleaming eyes and his dark dark hair and the way she knew his lips were tingling.

He placed a hand next to her, and then the other on her other side, and leaned closer, his body over hers, so close to touching, writhing against her. Slithering cold fled from his lips, tingling towards her and breathing, whispering against her face, parting her lips.

She breathed him in, the slithering, sweet dark, her eyes fluttering shut as she knew he gazed down at her face. She couldn't see his eyes.

He grasped her hand and insinuated his fingers between hers, spreading them apart, spreading her. He leaned over her, close and too close, breathing black against her but not nearly close enough.

Something inside her moaned, and he inhaled harshly.

And the writhing blackness between them, her fear and fear and the acid sweetness between their lips closed in on itself, and she kissed him slowly.

And that insidious black fear rippled through her body and she sprang to life, able to move and gasp and press into him. The acid sweetness burned in her eyes, burned bright. As she stirred against him, he pulled back sharply.

"Ginny?" He said sweetly, and he sounded almost light and human, for an instant. He let her hand go, pulled up slightly from her, leaving her gasping and gasping, afraid, her eyes shut.

He leaned, uncertain, with fear as if she had finally given a part of her fear to him, finally. The acid lingered, slithering between them and around them, twirling her hair and his hair tossed too, but she was too afraid to touch that blackness.

His hand still pinned hers to the bed, pinned her hard and harder into the bed. She needed that tingling in his lips; she rose up to meet him blindly. She kissed him again, breathlessly, but Ginny only felt the dark curling tighten, tighten all over her and in her heart. She couldn't stop it.

"Tom!" She gasped, against his lips.

He snatched his hand out of hers instantly and furiously, pulled away from her in an instant. She cried out from the loss.

"What did you say?" He said loudly, suddenly.

The curling black slithering vanished, leaving her just cold and cold to the bone, petrified. Ginny was left a little girl under her covers.

"Lumos" he said, unexpectedly. A light dashed into her eyes but she made no move to shield them.

His eyes. She saw them, finally, glowing in the wandlight, green as death.

It was Harry, just Harry.

"What?" She croaked.

He stared at her, frozen.

"God, Harry, I'm so sorry, I-" she started, voice shaking.

"Having a nightmare?" He just stood there.

Her heart crumpled and she was suddenly sobbing.

"Oh, Harry."


End file.
